Here We Come A Caroling
by sephydark
Summary: America and England are supposed to be spending Christmas eve together, but his work gets in the way. Now he has to find a way to make things up with America.


The sounds of "Jingle Bells" filtered in from the next room, causing England to pause and look up from his paperwork. He was almost starting to regret having invited America over for Christmas, because he seemed not to have had a moment's peace since America got there. And this damned music now was the final straw. It wasn't that England disliked Christmas carols-why, he had written some fine ones himself-but this version was as loud and exuberant as America himself, and, more importantly, it was keeping him from his work.

"America, turn your music down! I can't concentrate with all that racket!"

"Come on, England, who works on Christmas eve? You've got to loosen up sometimes, have some fun," America said, poking his head into the room.

"Do you think I'm doing this because I want to?" England demanded, sounding more than a little irritable. "This is very important business, and I would appreciate it if you would go away and leave me to it."

"But England, can't you at least take a _little_ break? You're going to work yourself to death at this rate," said America. He sounded as if he was only half-joking.

"If you're not going to make yourself helpful, the least you could do is leave me alone while I'm working," England said, perhaps a bit more coldly than he intended.

As America left the room, England thought he caught a dejected look on America's face, but he ignored it. After all, it wasn't his fault America was being an annoyance. And it certainly wasn't his fault he had work today-if anything, he was more upset than America at having to work over the holidays.

* * *

It was getting late by the time England finally placed his papers in a neat stack on the edge of his desk, ready to be taken with him the next time he went in to work. As he did so, his mind went back to the look he had seen on America's face the when he left England's room. It had been quite far from America's usual cheerful expression, and England was beginning to regret the way he had snapped at America. He supposed that he should apologise, or at least do something to show that he was no longer angry.

Before his resolve could fade, England checked the nearby rooms for America, but found no sign of him. He had probably gone off somewhere to sulk after England had asked him to be quiet; America could be such a child sometimes.

Still, England had to admit that he hadn't been in the right, either. And he did want to spend time with America; he _had_ invited him over, after all. It was just that he had so much work to do... It was true that he could probably have put some off 'till tomorrow-but that would have meant doing work on Christmas, which he had really hoped to avoid.

England sighed and trudged away, figuring he should try to find where America had gone off to. First he checked upstairs, where the bedrooms were, figuring America might have shut himself in one of them, but no luck, so he went back downstairs to check there. Eventually he found a room which had the lights on, even though the door closed-that had to be where America was hiding. The door turned out to be not only closed, but locked, so he tried knocking on the door and calling America's name, but there was no answer. England wondered whether he should wait for America to come out or just leave him alone.

Eventually, England decided that he might as well go into one of the nearby rooms-judging by how long he must have stayed in that room, America wasn't coming out anytime soon, and if he did, England would still be able to hear him. A quick glance around the room he had chosen revealed that it was one he hadn't been in for years, and filled with old things: out-of-print books, records he hadn't listened to since before the CD was invented, an acoustic guitar he had gotten in the '60s. England smiled at the sight of it. America had liked his music so much back in those days.

England opened the case and pulled out the guitar inside. It actually felt rather nice to be holding the old thing again, he thought as he strummed a few chords. Ah, yes, he remembered how to do this. He strummed out the beginning of a Beatles song before deciding to play something a bit more seasonal. America had been listening to Christmas carols before, after all-perhaps playing them now would be the best thing to do.

England strummed the first few notes of one of his favorites and began to sing, "God rest ye merry, gentlemen, let nothing ye dismay..." He found that it felt good to lose himself in the music. So good, in fact, that he didn't even notice America listening at the doorway until he had finished the song and looked up.

"Hey, that was pretty nice. Didn't know you still had it in you," America said with a bit of a smile. "Look, I'm sorry about before. I didn't mean to annoy you or anything-not that it's hard to or anything-just, it's Christmas eve, isn't it? I wanted to spend it with you."

England ignored America's little jab at him. "No, I should be the one apologising. I was frustrated about having to work right now; I took it out on you. I shouldn't have."

"Did you really have to do it today, though? I mean, tomorrow's a holiday and all, so..."

"It was either today or tomorrow, and I would rather spend Christmas with you," England said, giving America a small smile. "I can't believe they're making me come in on boxing day, those bastards!"

"Man, that sucks. At least you got a little time off, right?" America said in a soft voice. "Anyways," he added, much more loudly, "let's have another song to take our minds off things."

"Very well," said England. "Which one would you like?"

"I dunno, you choose. But make it something happy."

"So be it. I'll do 'Here We Come A-Wassailing'." America gave a nod, and England launched into the song.

_Here we come a-wassailing among the leaves so green;  
Here we come a-wandering so fair to be seen..._

As he sang, England realised that America was singing slightly different lyrics; his version went "Here we come a-caroling..." Although, England supposed on further reflection, it would stand to reason that America would sing the newer lyrics; he had always been rather fond of changing things unnecessarily.

Still, England couldn't say that all changes were bad-after all, there was a time when he would never dream of spending Christmas with America like this. As the song ended, England smiled slightly to himself at the thought.

"What are you smiling about?" asked America.

"I'm just glad to be spending Christmas with you," England said, the smile growing broader.

America smiled back. "Yeah, me too." He didn't say anything else, but he didn't need too; his happiness was clear, even without the right words.


End file.
